


The Choice

by plumeria47



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Choices, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, POV Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumeria47/pseuds/plumeria47
Summary: "It's the fear of what comes after the doing that makes the doing hard to do. But you can almost always live with the consequences."(Angels in America)AKA: How might one choice affect the rest of your life?  Remus POV.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Story was written ages ago and is NOT canon-compliant for DH.

On my mantel sits a framed photo. It's a snapshot of four young men, about age nineteen or so, arms slung around each other or cheerily waving to the photographer - Lily, as most people correctly guess. Sirius and I are in the middle, with his arm around my shoulder; James is on his right, Peter on my left. It's a moment in time when we were all young and carefree, before treachery destroyed everything. Those who see it assume I keep the photo so prominently displayed as a reminder of those happier times, and as a way to remember those who died honourably.

In truth, I keep it there to remember how one choice can make all the difference in my life.

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

The camera flashed, and everyone relaxed the pose, blinking their eyes. I admit, however, that I was far more conscious of Sirius' arm around me, and wished with all my might that he'd remove it soon. Bad enough that I'd harbored an attraction to him for ages, but anytime he touched me - hands brushing as we passed food at the table, legs knocking together on the sofa, and now this - made me much more painfully aware of my feelings. He didn't know I liked him that way, of course; no one did. No one knew I seemed drawn to boys - okay, I guess we were men now - more than birds. They already knew one major secret about me, and while they'd done a pretty good job of _keeping_ it secret, I wasn't about to push my luck. Not to mention the fact that being gay was somehow a lot more personal and ... you know how blokes are. Ready to keep ten feet away from you at all times if they know you're bent, just in case you try to feel them up at odd moments. I needed my friends more than ever now that we were away from the security of Hogwarts, so I kept my mouth shut and my inclinations - and hands - to myself.

Unfortunately, Sirius, in his ignorance, had no such self-restraint. I suppose I was hyper-aware of things, but it seemed like he was always casually touching me _somewhere_ \- like now. And what was worse, he kept his arm slung across my shoulders even as Lily was putting the camera away and people started drifting off into the kitchen, looking for last night's leftover curry. As the room emptied, I tried casually shrugging him off, but his arm stayed put. 

"We should probably go in, before the others eat everything," I said, turning to him with a smile pasted on my face. I started to walk toward the kitchen, but that arm around me held me fast.

"Wait, Moony - don't go just yet."

I glanced over at him, so close. He seemed nervous about something, flicking his eyes briefly at the door as if to make sure none of the others were coming back to look for us; I tried not to stare at his mouth as he unconsciously licked his lips.

"Look," he continued, "I ... you...." He fell silent. I waited patiently, growing more puzzled - and a little uncomfortable - at the way he was looking at me so intently. The air felt electric between us, the way it does in the moment before a major spell is cast; if he didn't let go of me soon, I was going to have to start making awkward excuses for the way my robes tented in front.

"Moony...." He tried again, but his voice trailed off immediately. Or maybe I was no longer listening. The self-restraint I had practiced for years faded beneath that steady gaze, the warm scent that filled my whole being - but even so, I was dimly conscious that I had no right to do what I was about to do. I was throwing away a perfectly good friendship, a friendship I depended on every month, to say nothing of helping to keep me fed and sheltered the rest of the time when werewolf employment opportunities grew thin. But suddenly, I no longer cared. Perhaps I was only imagining it out of desperation, but it seemed like desire flashed in his grey eyes, in the way he was looking at me.

Before he could say anything else, I leaned in and kissed him.

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

_"Moony...." He tried again, but his voice trailed off immediately. Or maybe I was no longer listening. My overheated imagination was trying to tell me that he was about to kiss me; we were already so unbearably close, I was already having trouble restraining myself. But I couldn't. I just couldn't risk so much - our friendship, my support system. What if I was wrong? What if I was right but then it all fell apart later? What if people shunned him - or both of us - for being together? He'd already lost so much - I couldn't be responsible for anything else. Any short term happiness wasn't worth it._ I _wasn't worth it._

_"Come on," I said in an overbright voice, giving his arm a friendly pat and finally succeeding in casually - I hoped - ridding myself of the arm he still had wrapped around my shoulders. "Let's go see if the others left any curry for us." And I walked away._

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

His mouth was warm and wet and better than I could have ever imagined. The hand he'd had on my shoulder slid around to the back of my neck, pulling us even closer together. When we finally came up for air, it took me an additional moment to find enough brain cells to speak a coherent sentence, given that all my blood had gone rushing south.

"How long have you known?" I finally managed.

Sirius rested his forehead against mine. "What, that I'm bent?" he murmured. "Or that you are?"

"Either ... both."

I felt more than saw the sheepish grin that spread across his handsome features. "For me ... couple of years, I guess. Didn't like to think about it, but eventually I had to admit that I was. As for you ... I dunno. I guess I just started noticing you watching me, and ... you are, aren't you?" He suddenly pulled back to look at me anxiously. "I mean, I didn't imagine that?"

I laughed. "I kissed you, didn't I?" I slid my hands into his hair and pulled him close for another kiss to prove it - just because I could. He responded with enthusiasm, and soon we were lost to our hormones again. "God, Sirius," I mumbled between kisses. "If you only knew how often I wanted to do this."

"I can imagine pretty well," he replied, taking a moment's pause from exploring my mouth with his tongue. The world faded away after that, shrunk down to the feel and taste of Sirius, the shape and hardness of his body pressed against mine. I completely forgot we weren't alone in the flat until another voice intruded.

"Oh Merlin," James exclaimed. "Moony, not you too!" Sirius and I whipped apart at the sound, but there was no denying what we'd been doing, or any possible excuse I could have made. I could feel my face getting redder by the moment as all my blood rushed north again.

Then James' words registered. "What do you mean, me 'too'?" I looked over at Sirius. "Does this mean he knew about you?"

Sirius looked faintly uncomfortable, but he shrugged and smiled anyway. "Yeah - I told him a few months ago and he was kind enough not to hex me into next week for it."

"I figured it was better to have a bent best friend than none at all," James cut in. "But I didn't know about _you_!" His voice was accusing, but his mouth was quirked into a faint grin, and I began to relax a little. "Two poofs in one household - who would've thunk it?" He let out an amused snort. "But that's our limit, all right? Wormtail and I will be outnumbered, otherwise!"

Sirius held his right hand over his heart. "I solemnly swear not to bring over the members of Shirt Lifters Anonymous to convert you." 

"Gee, thanks, Padfoot. That's a real comfort." James rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm going back to eat, assuming the shock hasn't ruined my appetite. And for heaven's sake, next time get a room!" Then he smiled. "But I have to confess - you two look disgustingly happy right now."

We never did make it in to dinner that night.

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

_Sirius and I ate our curry in silence while the others chattered around us. I was afraid of what he might say if I tried talking to him, and even more afraid of what I might admit in response._

 _In the days that followed, we did eventually return to our regular friendship. There was some lingering awkwardness initially, but that was minimized as long as someone else was present - and I made sure to arrange that as much as possible. I never did stop wanting him, though, and when he began bringing some partners home a few months later, I confess it hurt. Not that I expected differently - I mean, he had no idea how I felt, and neither did anyone else, so why shouldn't he find happiness with other people? I confess I_ was _surprised when most of those people turned out to be men, and gratified to see that Peter, James and Lily never faltered in their friendship. But it was too late for me, I felt, too much time where I_ could _have said something about my own inclinations, and didn't. And how would it look now, to have one member of our little group to come out, only to have me pipe up, "Oh yeah, me too"? Too strange._

_Instead, I did what I had always done - I kept my thoughts and feelings hidden and watched the others live the full life I was unable to have. James and Lily got married, Sirius enjoyed a string of various partners, and even Peter snagged a girlfriend now and then. The rat, stag and dog still accompanied me once a month, though, and for that I was grateful; truly, I already had more than I ever deserved or had hoped for, and was glad I hadn't ever dared to risk it all for the sake of a kiss._

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

When I first heard what had happened, that horrible Halloween night in 1981, I didn't know what to think. Sirius and I had had some rocky times, largely related to the fact that someone was clearly leaking information and we'd all been told not to discuss any Order information amongst ourselves. No matter how much you love someone, such blanket restrictions can make you start to question anybody. I didn't want to believe Sirius was capable of such a thing - I mean, he'd left his own family rather than commit to their dark interests - and despite the increased awkwardness in our relationship, trusted that someone else was causing the trouble. However, once the news reached me of Sirius' betrayal and arrest, I could only accept that it must be true. 

I hated myself for awhile after that. Hated that I could have made such a misjudgment, given my love - because by the time this happened, I really had come to love him, not just be infatuated by him - to someone so monstrous. I, who thought I knew people so well.... The secrecy restrictions had perforce limited my ability to truly know him these past few months, and yet I still would not have guessed, from body language, even when he was agitated, that he was to blame. Love is blind, I suppose.

But despite all these jumbled feelings, I really did miss him. I knew he deserved his imprisonment in Azkaban, but it still pained me to know the Dementors would strip his memory of the good times we'd had together. Somehow, I knew he had loved me, even if that love hadn't been enough to turn him away from Voldemort's lure. 

The events of Halloween 1981 abruptly deprived me of the only support network I'd ever had, and I wandered around at loose ends, from odd job to odd job, meal to meal, full moon to full moon, for several years. I even went down to the Continent for awhile; I stayed largely in Muggle settlements in order to avoid anyone too familiar with the signs of lycanthropy, and eked out a living as best I could. After awhile, I even managed to have a few short relationships. It wasn't the same as the Great Love I'd once experienced, and fear my condition might be discovered put a natural limit on things, but those relationships still brought me some measure of contentment while they lasted. But I never forgot what I'd had with Sirius.

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

_When I first heard what had happened, that horrible Halloween night in 1981, I didn't know what to think. We had drifted apart somewhat in the months prior to the attack - different tasks, and an admonishment to be mindful of possible spies - meant I kept to myself more than ever, and even Sirius was unusually reticent. So while I hated admitting that I had harbored a crush on such a poor choice, and mourned the loss of friends and the support they had brought me, I had no choice but to accept Sirius' actions as truth. I guess I just hadn't known him as well as I thought. Just as well I had never been involved with him._

 _I had never been involved with_ anyone, _truth be told. Even once my dearest friends were gone, and I no longer had to worry about their reactions to my sexuality, I still did not rush right out to shag the first person I saw. But eventually loneliness won out, and I stumbled into a few short-lived and ill-matched relationships with those rare men - and one woman - who were drunk enough to forget my scars and be more interested in the physical than in asking about my past. In the end, however, I had to accept the fact that any real connection was lacking, and that no one really cared that much about me, personally. Which, perhaps, I'd known from the beginning - that I was not worth loving, not with all the risks that came with truly knowing me. I gave up any pretense at looking for partners, short-term or otherwise, and spent the rest of those long years alone, concentrating on my survival, instead._

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

I still look back on that hug with amazement. Twelve years of separation, of guilt and blame and loss - and suddenly the truth was revealed by a map we had created as mischievous children. Thank God for devious minds, because as soon as I had hurried along the bitterly familiar path to the Shack, and had assured myself that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me, I had Sirius in my arms again. There was nothing sexual about that first hug - nothing but an overwhelming sense of coming home. He was bedraggled and bony and stank like month-old haggis, but he _fit_ and, for all that we'd lost in those twelve years, that hug made me feel almost as if we'd never been apart.

The reality of our reunion wasn't so simple of course, but even during the difficult times, I was still happier than I had been in years. I took nothing for granted, so even when Sirius' re-integration into regular life hit some rough patches, when he needed some space, or even a good smack in the head, even during the year he had to remain in hiding far away and we were relegated to infrequent correspondence, I was still thankful he was _there_. And once we were able to live together again, first under my roof, then under his, we were able to really re-learn each other, and to rediscover how much better we could trust and forgive - and love - as adults. We talked, we cried, we laughed, we made love, and in doing so, we ... made love. I had thought our relationship was strong in our youth, but this time love was truly the foundation of everything we did, forging an unbreakable bond.

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

_I still look back on that hug with a sort of painful joy. Joy because it was truly wonderful to know he was innocent, and pain because it reminded me again of the chances I had lost. I still felt some of the old pull for him once things had settled down a bit, but too much time had passed. I couldn't very well say, 'By the way, I fancied you thirteen years ago, so how about a kiss?' Besides, even if Sirius had ever had any interest in me, it had long been destroyed by the Dementors._

_Instead, I wrote him a few awkward, falsely cheerful notes during his year in exile, catching him up on how I'd come to know Harry fairly well, and how he was doing. Then Sirius came to live with me for a bit on Dumbledore's orders, and I with him once he'd reclaimed Grimmauld Place. Full of dust and dark magic it might have been, but still better than the hovel I could afford, and I was grateful when he offered me accommodations there. We lived together as well as any roommates, sharing chores and a few pints of ale now and then, but neither of us seemed to know how to reclaim the easygoing camaraderie we'd shared as young men. And so we remained amiable, like old friends are, but oddly distant, too._

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

When Sirius fell through the Veil, I didn't know it would hurt so much more than losing him the first time. Even though a sentence to Azkaban is supposed to be just as permanent as death, and even though at the time I thought him guilty of murder, I suppose a tiny part of me was comforted to know he was - probably - still alive. 

Since he apparently did not fear death enough to return as a ghost, however, Sirius' demise was truly the end for him - and for us. I was perversely glad I had Harry's pain to focus on in those first moments; it kept me going at a time when our lives were in jeopardy and a moment's pause to grieve might have cost our side everything. But once the immediate crisis was over, the loss hit me like an overgrown Bludger. Was such love worth such pain? At the time, it was hard to say. After a while, though, I was able to appreciate what I had gained from my relationship with Sirius, despite all the troubles life had thrown us and the burdens we each had borne. I had known love, and had learned to love in return, and that made all the difference in the world. Yes, it hurt to lose him. But eventually I was able to focus on the joy and fulfillment he had brought me, not on the pain.

When a young Metamorphmagus expressed her interest a short time later, my first inclination was to let her down as gently as I could. I wasn't sure I was ready to open my heart again, and take the risks that went with it - including the risks to _her_. But she was persistent and, although I'd generally been attracted more to men than to women, women still had their appeal, and I found myself eventually responding to her attentions. It was the photograph on my mantel, however, which goaded me into action - the reminder that taking a bold step in my long-ago past had given me a lifetime of memories to treasure forever. I wanted the chance to experience that joy again, so I accepted Tonks' love, and came to genuinely love her, too. There were some rough times in the beginning when I had to look at the photo and remind myself again that some risks were worth taking, but by the time our son was born, I was again filled with that same happiness and peace I had once felt with Sirius. He can never be replaced, of course, but Tonks - Dora, now - and Teddy bring me joy, and I am thankful beyond words for the choices I have made.

< \-- > < \-- > < \-- > < \-- >

_When Sirius fell through the Veil, I said a silent farewell to him - and to regret. The death of an old friend, and also the death of a life I had never lived, but always wondered about. Would things have been any different if I had kissed him so long ago? Would we still have been friends - would I have been there to see him go through the Veil? Or would we have parted in anger, unable to remain civil if the attraction wore off? I would never know. All I was left with, for my cowardice, was some vaguely happy memories of our youthful foursome, and of our quiet, awkward life as adults. Whether my memories of Sirius would have been better or worse, had I shown more backbone, I could not know. I still was not entirely sure I_ could _be loved, whether anyone would be willing to bother taking on all my burdens as a werewolf, and whether I was really worth that effort anyway._

_Tonks seemed determined to love me, however, and everyone else seemed to think it a good idea so, in the end I gave in - and then regretted it. Surely, I, an aging, unimpressive, scarred monster, was not worth the losses she faced because of me. I had never known anyone to accept those risks on my behalf - my friends had risked their lives, in a way, by teaching themselves the Animagus spell - but they'd already overcome that danger by the time they told me about it. And because my lycanthropy was still a secret at the time, their reputations suffered no harm by associating with me. For Tonks, it was all different. No one had ever loved me before, and I did not really understand that such pain can be considered a worthwhile trade, in exchange for the supposed happiness the relationship can bring. Did I really make her so happy? I could only hope so, given the price she paid. It wasn't until our son was born that I was better able to grasp the concept - that worry and pain could be repaid by the love of another person. A tiny, blue-haired moppet who - thank God - had inherited the ability to shift his form at will, and not through the curse of the moon._

_I still look at the photo on my mantel from time to time. I'm thankful I did finally learn to take a chance on someone, although I admit I fell into things rather passively. I care for Dora, certainly, but I don't know if that really qualifies as love. Perhaps my feelings would be stronger if I had taken more initiative. But I suppose I have nothing to complain about, in terms of the way my life turned out. It's nothing but the result of my own choices, after all._

**Author's Note:**

> Please make the choice to leave a comment! I love to hear from my readers. Concrit is ok, too - just be polite. :-)


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